Killing Mockingbirds
by GeminiGemelo
Summary: Simba, Crown Prince of the Pridelands, falls for the beautiful Nala, an innocent but rather unfortunate cub. However, in the wake of a tragic event and the loss of her friend, everything changes; the throne is taken by a dark and mysterious lion, and Nala suffers alone... until she realizes that the darkness in her life is simply part of a cycle she cannot control. AU, Dark!Mufasa.


_Oh my, it's been so long. _

_I feel like I haven't been on this website in forever... but how could I forget?_

_Anyway, I've had this idea stuck in my mind for a while, and it just seems too good, at least to me, to not at least try to get out there._

_I know I haven't updated any of my stories in... well, almost six months... damn... but I promise it's not forever. I'll be back soon, but first I need to get back into the swing of writing. Trampled will still get updates - however, I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life lately. Not bad things, just busy things... I'll explain some other time. But pretty much, I need to write, and sticking with just one story all the time was blocking me._

_Anyway, this fic is a fairly-heavy AU, and it's based off of Nala. She and Simba are a bit older than they were in the stampede sequence. I'm using a bit of a less omniscient narrator, so hopefully the reader can really get under her skin and relate to her. I'm gonna try to work on characterization a bit more._

_So... yeah, enjoy._

* * *

It was a long time ago. Before the drought, before the hurt of many long and monstrous days, before the weaving of the nights into one long tapestry of pain and misery. Before the depression seemed to last so long that it bled ominously into the fabric of her previously innocuous existence. So many months ago, months lost and worn in the sands of time. Months that were precious, months that were, as much as she would have liked to think otherwise, sacred.

Nala was beautiful, but what she had was a very simple, very humble beauty. Her eyes were mirrors into her soul, something at once so exuberant and faithful, bright and full of light. It shone in her eyes, a soft and gentle contentment reflected from inside. A joy. A passion. It was there, deeply embedded, burning like an ember quietly from within.

It was before. Before she realized the sting of rejection. Before she knew what it was to be abnormal. No, forget what she had said, before the _pride_ had told her what it was to be abnormal. Before they had defined her and who she was; before they had stripped away the joy inside.

Before they had taken her identity from her.

It all happened so seemingly without reason. But she could remember, very lucidly indeed, how it came to pass. How, when she was but a cub—a naïve little thing—she had awoken the beast of fate from its deadly and capricious slumber.

She'd done it by telling him of her love, her devotion. And it was such a simple thing, so very, very long ago.

The little pale cub walked closely along the side of the ledge, one foot moving gently in front of the other as she tried to keep her balance. She wobbled side to side slightly, impeded perhaps by the throes of awkwardness associated with her blooming adolescence, but eventually found herself stepping forward smoothly, in time with the tempo of her heart. One paw in front of the other, nice and slow.

She leapt off onto the ground, the moist earth kissing the soles of her feet as she crept forth, as gracefully as she could. Her eyes glinted. He was there.

"Simba," she greeted him, her lips slightly apart in a modest grin.

The lion returned the gesture and moved closer, causing her stomach to lurch about slightly and her cheeks to turn a soft ruddy hue. Lucky he couldn't see that, she thought, the wind ruffling the silky fur on her cheeks. She averted her gaze bashfully.

"Hey, you're here! How was it?"

"It was alright," she replied softly. "We went and saw the Zuberi River. Rafiki told us all about it."

"Oh, yeah. Dad showed me that river! It's really cool!"

"It is," she looked down at her paws, biting her lip softly. There was something else. Something she didn't want to say. The young femme suddenly looked… disturbed, slightly. Her strange look lasted only a moment, but Simba picked up on it.

"Hey, is something wrong?" His energetic, somewhat boyish tone softened as he approached her, his head cocked in concern and confusion.

She shook her head. "No, everything's fine."

"Nala…" he sighed. "You know you can tell me. I'm your best friend, after all. Isn't that what friends are for?" The lion cracked a soft smile.

She balked, but reluctantly the young lioness gave in, not exactly sure what to say. It was something that had been on her mind a while, but had never quite been borne into the form of words. It was like the ashes of her thoughts, never quite incarnated into the phoenix that they had desired to become.

"Well, it was going fine until…" she looked away, momentarily unable to finish her sentence. "… Mom tried to jump in. I think she's wanted to a while."

There it was. She wasn't quite sure why it affected her; after all, her mother _had _always been a little bit…

Nala wasn't sure of the word. Not yet. Not until she experienced it for herself. But as of now, she just stood there, her haunches lowering into a sitting position as she swallowed back a slight lump.

"What?" Simba's princely, golden paw alighted upon her shoulder like a comforting bird… gently, gracefully. "Nala, that's rough… any idea why she did it?"

"No," she responded quickly, shaking her head in a somber manner. "The only reason she's here is because Mgeni dragged her out."

"Oh." He sounded genuinely sympathetic. "If it makes you feel better, I think I understand. Remember my uncle?"

"That creep?"

"Yeah."

She tried not to shudder, but that was hard. The few memories she had of the dark and elusive lion, the one who seemed to always be locked in coldness, the one who seemed to always have a scowl on his face, the one who seemed to always hold some sort of hidden hatred towards the world that he rarely expressed and the source of which was generally unknown by all who even bothered to try to know who he was, on the inside…

They bothered her. For, indeed, there was a congruence. There was some sort of bond, unexpressed, unknown to all but those who saw it with a close eye, as she and, apparently, Simba had. Some sort of common experience in them both. It must've been. As her mother was exactly the same, frozen in a coldness, a distance, that nothing, and no one, could seem to purge from her heart.

Not even Nala. No, especially Nala. She'd always been frigid, automatic, careless. She provided for her, out of a base sense of responsibility. But at the end of the day, it was little more than a contract. Nala was fed by the lioness, and in return…

In return, she stayed out of the way.

That was all it was. That was all it had ever been.

Now, that was not to say that the lioness had ever acted spitefully towards her (save for that one occasion she preferred not to discuss), but on the whole, their relationship had always been one of near non-existence: an empty vacuum filled by lonesome adventures. And, in a way, by Simba.

"My mom, she… she just hurts from something, I guess. She won't say what."

She looked sad. He responded by hugging her, quickly and abruptly, around the waist, his already-masculine paws embracing her slim, slightly-ribby figure.

He was something more to her. She knew it, even now. But neither of them said it. They only savored the moment, with her in his arms—something she wanted desperately, to fill the empty space in her life, to give her the love she had never received before…

But it was not to be. She knew it, somehow, viscerally. Almost as though a clairvoyant spirit's eyes had been thrust upon her, to gaze upon a future she consciously knew not of, to feel the effects of an event not yet caused. It was subtle, and yet powerful. Nothing, and yet everything.

She clutched him harder.

It seemed like ages before he finally let her go.

"Listen, Nala…" he whispered in her ear; tentatively, as though unsure of himself—something very strange for so forward a fellow as he normally was—"I think I… I think…"

"Say nothing more," she released him, looking back gratefully. "I know."

He looked slightly abashed, in a somewhat playful way.

"Just, ever since I met you…" he gazed upon her petite figure. "… Like, I normally know everything I'm going to say, and it comes out so easy, but when I'm around you… it's like you take them away."

"I know," she repeated, the smile growing on her face. Never had she ever felt for anyone so strongly before. Their gazes were infectious; probing, even, in a way. Every simple gesture had the most profound depth to it, and each pair of eyes was able to gaze into the other's soul.

"I love you, Nala."

* * *

It was late now.

The young girl waited outside patiently, as she always did, observant and attentive lest her mother should finally walk by with her evening meal and drop some morsels of prey on the ledge outside the cave for her to eat.

The sun drooped, steeped in crimson sky. It was later than usual, and there was no sign of the lioness. Last she'd seen her, she'd been in a bad mood anyway.

She probably wasn't going to be fed that night, though still she waited—as much as she hated to admit it, she was rather famished, and didn't feel like going to bed hungry another night. Nala paced around a bit more, scanning for a familiar face, or someone to help her perhaps, but there was nobody yet. The other cubs had eaten, even before the lionesses, and were mostly already in bed.

For her part, the young creamy femme had never been able to dine with them. She hadn't bothered to ask why, for most of the cubs (_most, _she reminded herself) were quite friendly with her, and it didn't matter too much anyhow.

Finally she was too tired to stay out any later, her need for sleep outweighing her need for sustenance as she yawned and blinked tiredly. Nala had been about to resign herself to the solemnity of the cave, before a slight twinge of something—the faintest whiff of gazelle, perhaps—reached her delicate, feminine nose.

"Jamaa?" she questioned innocently enough into the growing, lurking night. There was another, distinct shuffle; no reply, though that was all she needed to verify her friend's identity.

"Jamaa, have you seen Mom? Is she okay?"

"Your mother is fine, I think, but she needs some time alone."

There was another soft scuffle of a paw against the ground, though even in the dark Nala could practically feel the aura of the lioness' smile. The cub thus drew closer, feeling comforted by her presence.

"Here, I got this for you, sweetheart," Jamaa shifted her weight and dropped the haunch of a fresh-killed tommy on the ground, appearing not at all inconvenienced by the fact that Nala's mother had neglected her duties to her daughter and that she had had to provide a meal for the cub on her own. Indeed, despite the circumstances, she had made a relatively capable huntress. "Let's go inside. It looks like you need a bath."

Nala grinned and complied happily. It was getting cold, as it did at night in the savanna where they lived. She skipped and ran around her faux-mother for a moment, before retreating to their sleeping place. Jamaa followed the young cub, more scuffles punctuating her otherwise smooth, rocking gait.

Though most of the pride slept in the same cavern, it was quite spacious and there was plenty of room for everyone. Nala and her mother, as well as Jamaa and a few other of the rather different lionesses, huddled separately in their own group—as did the king and his kin, who slept elsewhere altogether.

The pride's huntresses seemed to be winding down, and they paid no notice to the pair as the two of them retreated to their quiet corner. Unlike most cubs, Nala rather liked baths. They were a rare show of affection towards her, and something that she desperately needed in her life. Thus, she didn't mind when the older middle-aged lioness, despite being normally gruff-looking and hardened in her countenance, with fierce facial features and a sharp tongue, settled down contentedly into a sitting position next to her, taking a few extra moments to make sure her leg was resting comfortably.

Jamaa's tawny fur, though dusty, was soft, as was her gaze. It was unusual for this lioness especially, but there was a sort of connection between those two sets of blue eyes, and Nala had always known it. It was the shared acknowledgement that sparked between two misunderstood beings. For, even at this point in her life, Nala could see that her older pridesister was misunderstood indeed. There was a twinge, usually frozen on her weathered face, of resentment, of defensiveness. Only around Nala, and a few other close friends, did her hard, cold gaze soften, and the edges of her lips peel back in a genuine, caring smile…

Yes, her body was maimed, but her heart, inside, was fine.

And so it was that Nala ate in peace, perfectly content as her coat was licked clean by that warm, moist tongue. Often had she wished that her mother would bathe her, often had she pined for that same kind of affection from the one who had instilled her with life… but at the end of the day she realized, rather sadly, that even if that had happened, and the lioness had taken the time to care for her in any way, it probably wouldn't have felt as loving or as luxurious.

Indeed, there'd been no sign of her since the incident with the river. Nala worried, as any cub would've worried for their parent, but it was with a frigid, dim sort of feeling. It was… numbed, somehow. She felt bad for admitting it to herself, for she knew that cubs ought to love their parents… but there was a gnawing feeling that, even if the lioness had died that day, the effect it would have had on her would not have lasted as long as she would have liked to have thought to herself.

She denied it, of course. But when the creamy adult, the one with the coat as light as her own but with a heart tainted several shades darker, finally staggered into the cave, she couldn't help but feel her stomach drop just a little in mild dejection—as though, if her mother were gone, the hole left in her heart by her absence would soon have been filled to form a seamless whole again.

The female had looked at the two of them a little, her eye quizzical, perhaps critical… But in the end it was shaded with her usual passivity, and whatever spark that was held in her gaze promptly died. She was, for the moment at least, indifferent, and so she simply sulked towards the back of the cave and lay there staring, motionless, at the cool stone of the wall.

Jamaa ignored her completely, and even Nala forgot about her presence after a few moments. The bath continued, this time resuming around the back of her ears. The cub worked on her meal.

"You're very dirty today," her current caretaker noted, a bit gruff but with an audible note of affection in her voice. "Were you with the prince Simba again?"

"Yeah," Nala replied cheerfully enough between mouthfuls of food, several folds of skin obscuring her vision as Jamaa's brush-like tongue deeply cleaned the fur on her forehead. Even she couldn't help but squirm a little. "We talked and we played gnus-and-antelopes."

"Oh?" She sounded generally interested, pausing to lick Nala's cheek. "What's that?"

"Well, it's kinda hard to explain," she said matter-of-factly, tilting her head so that her throat could be cleaned, "me and Simba made it up the other day. There's a lot of rules."

"I see." The lioness sounded somewhat stressed. "Nala, do you remember what I told you?"

"_Mmmm,_" Nala assented, unable to talk well for a moment due to the position she was in. She swallowed, feeling a twinge of surprise and embarrassment. "I know, he's a prince and he will probably marry a princess. We're just friends, promise."

It was a lie, and Nala felt a twinge of guilt in her heart. She wasn't sure if Jamaa noticed. Several moments passed, and the lioness' expression promptly changed again. But when her tongue was finished passing by the spatters of blood on her muzzle, she looked upon her with a hint of motherly concern.

"You can stay close with the prince—I just don't want your little heart broken, cubbie. It's a strange world out there."

Nala nodded, devouring the last scraps of meat and moving on to the marrow in an effort to extract the last of the succulent juices from her dinner. Finally she lay back, feeling better, and barely caught the saddened glance Jamaa gave to nobody in particular. She couldn't fully understand what her gazes meant, but the emotions she did decipher from them—sadness, pity, loneliness—showed that the lioness was profoundly moved by something she didn't yet understand.

"Listen, Nala; no matter what anybody else says, you are a princess. You are."

The cub looked down doubtfully.

"Look at me, Nala," she insisted, "you are."

Another lick on the cheek, this time not as part of her bath. It was a kiss. Of sorts.

Nala had never gotten them from her mother, and only once from Simba. She blushed a rufus hue, unused to the close intimacy of the gesture.

She smiled for a moment, though it quickly disappeared.

"_Stop_ coddling her, Jamaa."

The older lioness promptly ceased bathing Nala, not in compliance but out of sharp irritation. A reflexive growl exposed her canines.

"Oh, what are you salty about, Sarafina? At least _somebody _takes care of her."

Nala's mother looked irritable and tangibly bitter, and Jamaa, too, had lost her soft gaze in place of some hidden aggression. The cub cowered a bit, hating the confrontation, and tugged on her caretaker's arm. Her grooming session had ceased, and though she felt dirty and uncomfortable, she said nothing. She didn't want to be a burden.

"Jamaa? It's not my mom's fault, it's fine, I don't need anyone to take care of me. It's my fault."

"What are you talking about, dear? Of course it isn't. Your mother… she should be taking care of you." She looked back at Sarafina. "I know your daughter better than you do. Do you realize that?"

Nala again felt a twinge of hurt, torn to see what was essentially, at least to her if not to anybody else, two different mothers fighting with each other. As to which one had won in her heart… she didn't know. But she hated when they spat like this.

"What do you know, Jamaa? You fill her head with dreams, but you know, deep inside, that she'll never be a princess—not with what she is."

Jamaa's face instantly hardened into a snarl, her momentary outrage clear not only in her face but in her taut, expressive body language. The cub couldn't help but press closer to the lioness as her tan hackles stood up like tiny peeved spikes.

"How _dare you? _That has nothing to do with her!" She shouted, a growl forming in her throat. Sarafina seemed momentarily unmoved, though she glanced at her paws silently.

Jamaa continued.

"You know, ever since you got pregnant I've felt like I don't even know you anymore."

…

Silence ensued.

A lot of it.

Nala felt like she'd walked in on something deep and long-standing, and she didn't understand even a bit of it. True, they'd often quarreled like this, but… why was this so important to her mom? Why was she suddenly…

… No way.

Was she crying? Her mom?

_Her _mom?

Why was she acting like that?

"_I'm sorry_," she heard Jamaa whisper in her ear. "_This isn't your fault. I shouldn't have yelled in front of you_."

The cub looked up at her pleadingly, her face ingrained with the childish desire—no, _need_—to know. She heard the sobs, barely audible and visibly stifled though they were, choking her mother's throat a few feet away.

She didn't fully comprehend what any of this meant.

"Jamaa, what did she mean? When she said… with what I am?"

"_Nothing, _child, just…" she absently pulled Nala close with a paw, "listen, one day you will understand. But for now… I think it's best if you went to sleep."

It was more than a suggestion. Nala blinked and bit her lip before walking silently towards her mother. She was staring at the wall again as tears silently streaked her cheeks, as though unaware of her daughter or the other lioness. Had Nala been younger, she would've pawed at her, would have tried to get her attention… but she knew better. Her mother was absorbed in… something…

Her heart burned in silent resentment. She didn't know why, and again she felt ashamed about it. But the fact remained that it burned there, deep inside. The young cub sighed. Always had she slept beside her mother. Indeed, she used to try to nuzzle up to her, to sidle against her body, to purr and rub and knead her paws in. To snuggle her. To try something, anything… to elicit any kind of reaction. Any kind of maternal love.

It was almost never returned.

Jamaa was lying silently near them, looking lonely, her crooked leg pressed against her body as she waited. For something, for someone… she didn't know. Nala wondered about her, but found that her own tired eyes were drooping as she awaited sleep.

As for her mother, the only indication she was even alive was the ragged heartbeat emanating from her chest, barely audible beneath her scant fur and flesh, and the occasional sigh or choked whimper. Nala listened to it all for a moment, interested, before turning away. She'd had enough for right now.

Far away she saw the other cubs cuddled against their parents, nestled in paws, on backs, next to chests… but she sat alone. Her and her mother's breathing flanks were several inches apart, and even in the cold of the night, the creamy form of the lioness made no move to approach her cub any closer.

* * *

_I'm just going to warn you all this one time and say that this fic's rating will almost certainly be raised to M in the future. It deals with a lot of adult themes to a more significant extent than most of my other stories. And I'm not just talking about your standard gore/violence here, since that's been in almost everything I've written on this site. As some of you probably know by now. For now, however, it is T, mostly due to the filter system here and etc._

_Many characters and situations are heavily AU - some, less so. Although this story sticks to some of the basic framework/events of the movie, I tweak the characters a lot. Mufasa and Sarafina especially are going to be a lot different than you're used to, as will Simba later on. Again, I'm doing this to help make them different and maybe a bit more developed/three-dimensional than your standard fanfic portrayals, and also to really just play around with the universe._

_So, in short, these characters are going to be INTENTIONALLY OOC, for my own purposes. I am completely aware of this. I do not particularly itch to hear complaints about Mufasa. Or about how Sarafina was probably a good mother and my portrayal is 'off'. Trust me, I know. I'm making them this way on purpose. Y'know, for the story's sake._

_Anyway, if you felt any particular way about this chapter, or have any specific thoughts, please do tell me. I value the feedback of each of you, as I always have. It's what helps motivate me, and it lets me know what I need to do better. If you intend to follow this story and wish to receive emails when I update, as I hope to do, then please sign up for my alerts list as well._

_Thanks. Hopefully I'll see you all (fairly) soon._

_Twin_


End file.
